


Descent

by AmberDread



Category: Greek Mythology, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (facepalm), A twist in the myth, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Bad At Summaries, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Loss of Virginity, Reylo - Freeform, Sexual Coercion, Size Kink, Smut, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Virgin Rey (Star Wars), Voice Kink, maybe? - Freeform, probably Dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23916613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberDread/pseuds/AmberDread
Summary: Hades is known as the god of the dead and the king of the Underworld. That lore however, is only half true, yet there are few who know it...A Reylo twist on the story of Hades & Persephone.ON HIATUS
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 69
Kudos: 129
Collections: Anniversary Fic Exchange 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SheWalksInBeauty26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWalksInBeauty26/gifts).



> Tags and warnings may be updated!

****

**Άδης και Περσεφόνη**

_Hades is known as the god of the dead and the king of the Underworld. But that lore is only half true, yet there are few who know it. For there is only one true deity. The Maker, Creator of all and the Destroyer of everything._

_The gods that are worshipped and spoken of by mere humans, are Immortals, with lives that last millennia. They are blessed, (or cursed) with power beyond mortal ken, strength and beauty surpassing their distant human cousins, abilities that seem fantastical to anyone who doesn’t have blue blood pulsing in their veins. But they also have duties, obligations demanded of them._

_The truth of Hades, is that the name is a title, not the name of one being. The kingship is one of the most despised roles, the shortest straw._

**Άδης και Περσεφόνη**

The Underworld, sometimes also known by mortals as Hades, after its king, is a realm invisible to the living, made only for the souls of the dead. 

It has no solace of sunlight or relief of colour, no freshening wind or soothing rain, Hades is not a place to be happy in. It is dreary, a grey, joyless realm, lustreless and melancholy, even for those souls that did not commit any significant crimes in their time above.

Kylo Ren, acting as Hades for the last seven centuries, had grown accustomed to the atmosphere. Indeed, he had even grown to be comfortable - it is proving to be a welcomed break from the theatrics of his family and the other Immortals, for no one visits hell voluntarily.

He is content with his solitary existence; the three headed hound, Cerberus, or Chewie as he nicknamed him, is the only company he seeks out when the loneliness starts to feel smothering rather than soothing.

Mortals find the huge hound terrifying, the beast stands guard at the entrance of the Underworld, always watching, his solemn duty to prevent the dead from ever leaving. 

Despite his appearance, the hound has a soft centre, an affectionate nature reserved for a special few, his companionship is easy and always welcoming. 

One day, as he is visiting Chewie, Poe Dameron arrives, it appears his current role is Hermes, it fits, Kylo thinks derisively.

Happily Poe doesn’t stay long, just enough time to look about him with distaste and deliver a package wrapped in red silks... 

  
  
  


Kylo stares at the _Kathréftis tou Alithís Epithymía_ , a gift from his mother, who, at the best of times is capricious and at the worst of times, devious.

The mirror he held was barely larger than his splayed hand, though considering his powerful build and intimidating stature, that may mean it isn’t small. It is made of silver, bright and lustrous, with gold narcissus twinned around its rim and handle. The mirror itself is empty, curiously devoid of reflection, even as he gazes into it.

It’s name translated into basic is _The Mirror of True Desire_ , if he were to touch it with his power, to seek an answer, he has no doubt it will show him something, likely something his mother has decided he needs.

But desire is a tricky thing, some desires are fleeting, gone before they barely make an impression, easily forgotten. Others may be too deep, may be weaknesses, may be consuming. 

Other than power, Kylo has no other wants, (other than to be left alone), so he casts the mirror aside, resolutely ignoring its existence.

Yet desire can be persistent, and so is the mirror. Everytime he leaves his throne, he returns to find the treasure resting upon his seat, its light casting the ebony seat and basalt dais in dramatic, chiaroscuro relief.

It even begins to invade his sleep. 

This perplexes him greatly, Morpheus’s influence is not able to reach within the Underworld, none of the other gods are, not past the gate anyway.

The dreams only ever show him the mirror, never revealing what he would see if he bent it to his will.

It proves impossible to break, it does not shatter when thrown onto unforgiving rock and it will not disappear beneath the Styx, just floats on the surface, serene and unblemished, and appears once more on his throne when he returns to it. 

He should have known that anything his mother gave him, would be like her - in the end, she always gets what she wants, even here, in hell.

When he finally looks, nothing can prepare him for what he sees. The once tranquil surface becomes a vast desert, empty save for a lone figure, feet strapped to a board and hands holding onto a kite as they ride the dunes as if they are ocean waves.

The person was slight, skin wrapped in material to protect them from the merciless sun, even their face is concealed, just a narrow slit for their eyes. 

There is a certain grace and power to them, despite their small build, the way they effortlessly move, the strength that must be required to steer a kite that size.

Kylo has never particularly paid attention to Mortals, so this mode of transportation is new to him. 

It intrigues him despite himself, but it is hardly a true desire.

After a while a settlement comes into view, squat buildings huddled around a small burst of greenery - an oasis.

The figure pulls something and the kite slowly furls, bringing the board to a gentle stop as it drops to the sand.

The mirror focuses further on the figure as they secure their transport and head to the well at the centre of the oasis. They are greeted by others, none who seem to be significant and Kylo quickly forgets.

Then they draw down their veil and headwrap and something blooms inside Kylo’s chest, warm and golden and utterly alien.

It is a woman, or a girl on the cusp of womanhood, golden sun-kissed skin, a heart-shaped face set with bright eyes made up of green and gold and brown hues, luminous and wide, framed with dark lashes. As she drinks from the dipper at the well, he gazes at her wet pink lips, mesmerised as they purse and open, as she carefully swallows every drop, wasting nothing.

Water is precious in the desert, he remembers, essential to survival for the few who persist in dwelling there.

The brightness of the vision hurt his eyes, causing an ache there after endless years of darkness, and he reluctantly puts the mirror down so he can no longer see its face.

_So, a woman, then? His greatest desire is a sand-rat? A mere mortal?_

He snorts softly to himself, if he looks again it will likely show him something else, or someone else, it means nothing. 

_She_ means nothing.

Without the sun and moon to mark it, time in Hades passes slowly. Usually it didn’t bother Kylo, but now, the girl in the mirror seems to flash behind his eyes everytime he closes them. It stops him from sleeping and though he needs less than mortals, it frustrates him. There is knowledge in dreams, a deeper wisdom and power that is hard to find in the waking realms.

It is not long before he goes back to the mirror, hating this weakness in himself, this inability to dismiss it. The fact that it is clearly an artifact of great magic is of little consequence, no inanimate object should be able to influence him like this, he abilities rank high above the majority of his people, even if they curse him for it.

The girl is climbing, precariously clinging to a sheer rock face by her fingers and toes, and he feels a strange sense of alarm at the sight. If she were to fall, there would be no chance of her surviving it. She is either foolish or mad, he thinks as he watches her inching her way along painstakingly slowly, clearly searching for something.

Although her face is covered, he can sense her excitement when her fingers finally grasp a loose rock, there, nestled in the baser mineral, something glitters. 

Without inspecting it too closely, she stows it away in a small cloth bag that is strapped across her body and carries on.

He cannot look away - despite her clearly being well practiced in her task it is still hard to observe, but even harder to stop watching.

Unblinking, he stares into the mirror until she is safely back on the ground, all in one piece.

Sitting back and letting the mirror go dark, Kylo ponders why a woman would make a living doing something so dangerous. _Has she no kin? Surely there are other things she could be doing, and if there aren’t, why has she stayed there, in the harsh desert when a town or city could provide safer employment?_

Still, there is an odd sense of relief and satisfaction he feels that she is alone, no lover or husband claiming her as their own… for a moment his thoughts wander - it has been a while since he has indulged carnally. Matters of the flesh are beneath him, most of the time, but even he needs release now and then.

He pushes the feelings down.

There is no sound accompanying the mirror's visions and he wonders what her voice sounds like. He doesn’t often see her face and comes to treasure the times she reveals herself. Despite how often she covers up, there are freckles dusting her small nose and cheeks, some small voice inside him wonders at their number but he is never able to count them. 

That voice is silenced… or so he thinks, but not long later it is back again, quiet, but still there, like the mirror.

One precious time he finds her asleep, barely able to pick out her features in the dark, her brow soft in slumber. Normally when he sees her face, she is frowning due to the harsh light of the sun. She is beautiful, he realises, even though mortal, but the elements and age will start to change her soon, hardening her skin, lining it, withering her youthful glow. 

The idea seems criminal, suddenly the passage of time seems to speed up, he is more aware of it than ever. If he blinks, she may be gone from the world, arriving here in Hades to slowly fade away to nothingness or perhaps prepare for reincarnation - sometimes it’s hard to tell what a soul will choose to do, often there seems no rhyme or reason to their choice, yet he thinks she would choose to live again. 

Something tells him she is a survivor. 

Still, nothing is certain. 

Unless of course, he stacks the deck… or simply tosses the deck aside and plays himself.

The idea is as appealing as it is unsettling.

The precious stones she collects in the high rocky places of the desert, she sells on to a trader. The man is large and greedy and looks at the girl in a way Kylo does not like. He doesn’t like the dark skinned man who seems to be her only friend, either. 

It is a tough life she leads, but when compared to the other women he sees around her, he thinks she has made the right choice. The other women are bruised and browbeaten by their men folk, low spirited, and compared to his girl, their eyes are already dead.

So far her friend is just a friend, in a curious brotherly sort of way, but that may change. 

The idea of watching the light die inside her, causes him pain.

The way to the heart of a hound, is via his stomach, and that is even true of Chewie. Honey and herb cakes are his favourite and Kylo always takes some with him when he goes to visit. Sometimes it is pleasant to have someone to talk to, even if the animal cannot speak.

Charon, the ferryman is quite mad and only ever talks in riddles when he talks at all, and Styx is a sycophant of Zeus and she and Kylo avoid each other as much as possible.

So Kylo sits with Chewie, feeding him small pieces of cake and ignoring the dead as they pass by.

An idea is forming in his mind, one he is fighting, but deep down he knows it is a losing battle.

One of Chewie’s heads rests in his lap as the other two keep watch, always alert and on guard.

He tells the dog about his mortal girl, quietly he admits to the longing that has been building inside him, growing a little more each time he sees her. How he dreams of her skin, bare for him, all of her beneath him in his bed, spread out and helpless, only for him. 

His cheeks flush a little, unusual for an Immortal, another indicator of how low he is sinking. He should seek out another of his kind to satisfy these urges, but the problem is that he doesn’t _want_ to. 

He just wants his mortal girl.

“Surely one taste would be enough?” he asks, as he pulls Chewie’s ears, ignoring the hiss of the snake’s head tail, “One night of passion and this hunger will be sated.” 

He sounds confident, but he isn’t sure he believes himself.

  
  


It is the first time he has left Hades in a very long time. He leaves when it is night in the world above, even so the light of the moon and stars cause his dark eyes to ache even as his soul thrills at the sight.

The desert is cold and he wraps his black cloak around him more tightly, adjusts the Helm of Hades that hides his pale face as he walks quietly along the edge of his girl's home settlement.

He is just there to see her, observation _not_ contact - in the flesh, she will probably remind him why he has never lain with a mortal, then he can go back to the Underworld and return to his peaceful existence. 

Perhaps find time to divine a way to destroy the cursed mirror.

His girl’s small dwelling is on the periphery, it is made of dry stone, old but well maintained, an animal skin covers the door, weighted so it hangs still and heavy. 

Energy hums over his skin at the thought that he is only a few paces away from where she sleeps. 

The night is quiet enough that he can hear the soft sighs of her breathing as he slips his hands behind the door and quietly moves it aside.

And there she is, his mortal girl, her body curled around a small cook fire, its embers still glowing softly, casting a warm light on her sleeping face, and he realises there is no way he is leaving without her.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the title as I think it was misleading people into think this isn't written in English.

Rey’s life is hard, but it is  _ hers _ . There are few ways for women to make a living in the desert and she has the talent (or the deserpation) for one that means she doesn’t have to give up her autonomy and tie herself to a man.

It is true she could have left the desert and gone to live in a town or city, but she likes the freedom the vast expanses give her. The idea of so many people packed together in a small area, living on top of each other, repulses her.

Although she lives in a village, her life is a solitary one. The only occasion she really spends time with anyone is when Finn passes through. He is a caravan guard, Niima Outpost is a stop along a trade route, it is not as busy as some, but it gives the inhabitants their livelihoods and an easier way to trade for what they need without having to travel themselves. 

So she is as happy as it is possible to be; sometimes she wishes Finn would stay longer, or permanently, but these feelings are platonic and she has no right to ask him too. Secretly she dreads the day he stops coming, either because he has taken another job or found a wife.

Sometimes she regrets not having romantic feelings for him, and her pragmatic side will point out that most marriages have nothing to do with love. It is a point she absolutely agrees with, yet she cannot act on it, because she is  _ waiting. _

She has been her whole life, for what, she isn’t sure, but the feeling runs deep.

These feelings she gets, she follows. They have guided her all her life and have never led her astray. It’s how she has never been stung by a scorpion or bitten by a snake while she works, how she knows a storm is due hours before the natural warning signs. How she hunts so successfully or protects herself from men who won’t take no for an answer. 

Therefore if it tells her to wait, even though it doesn’t intimate what for, she obeys it, knowing that in time, all will be made clear.

So when she snaps awake to find a giant shadow standing in her hut, she cannot help but feel a sense of betrayal over how late this warning is. 

Shoving down her dismay, she jumps to her feet, her precious staff is resting against the wall out of her reach but she always sleeps with a knife under the thin pad she rests her head on.

The blade is in her hand but the figure makes no move towards her, merely cocks their head slightly as they watch her.

“Get out.” 

Her voice is almost steady but there is a small tremor in it, anger and fear.

Ignoring her command completely, the figure asks a question instead. 

“What is your name?” 

His voice is deep and dark, unlike any she has ever heard, her flesh rises with goosebumps and she shivers, but shakes her head.

“I don’t know who you are, but you need to leave, or I will make you.” She sounds more confident than she is, something about his voice makes her feel strange. “If you want to know my name, ask in daylight rather than sneaking uninvited into my home.”

When he doesn’t leave she brandishes her knife, long and sharp, “I won’t tell you again!” 

There comes a sigh, and his arm comes up, huge hand held out, not far from her head. Rey’s body tries to flinch away… _ but she cannot _ .

She cannot move, save to breath, her whole body locked down, frozen and impotent.

As she panics, he speaks again.

“Either you tell me your name, or I take it. Believe me when I say the former option is preferable to the latter.”

Speaking is possible then. 

“Why?” until today, and excepting her abilities, Rey has never believed in magic, _but this?_ This man is clearly uncanny, but _why in all of earth and sky, would he possibly want to know her name?_

Her answer displeases him, another sigh escapes him and he steps closer…

Rey gasps in shock, horrified as she feels something slip inside her head, into her thoughts, as if his fingers are digging through her mind. It hurts,  _ burns _ , the pain of this violation, her whole being strains against it, against whatever is trapping her body, but it is a wasted effort..

Hot tears slip from her eyes to trickle down her face, she hates to cry - it is a waste of water and salt, but she cannot stop.

Then, so abruptly she gasps again, her mind is her own once more, even if her body is still ensnared.

“ _ Rey _ .”

The way he says her name raises every hair on her body while fire blooms beneath her skin, blood tingling with something she heretofore has never experienced.

“It suits you,” he tells her as he steps closer, now barely inches away, gloved hand coming up to lightly graze her cheek. 

Even this close, she can get no sense of who he is, his body swathed in black robes and his face and head are hidden under a helmet. The dim glow given off by her fire isn’t enough for her to see his eyes - it is like looking at a phantom, the caress is the only proof she has that he even exists.  _ Could this merely be a dream? A nightmare? _ She prays to anyone willing to listen, with all her being it is so, that she will wake soon and laugh at her foolishness.

The knife she has been gripping this whole time, is gently eased from her useless fingers, it falls to the floor with a soft thud. 

“Time to go.” 

His voice is soft, and for a moment her heart leaps, foolishly assuming that he will leave without her. 

She has a brief moment of confusion as he raises his hand to her forehead and says, “ _ Sleep _ ,” before darkness rolls over her.

**Άδης και Περσεφόνη**

His mortal girl,  _ Rey _ , falls into his waiting arms with a small sigh. Limp and soft, her body light in his firm grip as he makes his way out of her hut and into the desert.

The sand and rock give way for him, parting to reveal a stairway that leads downward into darkness. As he descends, the ground reforms above him silently.

When they arrive at the Styx, he ignores Charon, instead conjuring himself a platform and skimming over the black water and grey mist, eager to return to his living space and examine his prize more closely.

Chewie greets him with a whine, serpent headed tail hissing as he wags it, one huge head turned so he can snuffle at Kylo’s burden with interest.

Kylo smiles and gives him a quick ear pull, “This is my mortal girl,” he tells the hound quietly, “What do you think?”

Further sniffing leads to a huff and an approving rumble sounds in Chewie's chest, that turns into a snarl as the serpent headed tail tries to curl around his body and bite - the mammalian and reptilian aspects of the hound's nature always at war with each other. 

After slipping the dog’s head closest to him a morsel of cake, Kylo enters through the gate.

There is an area of Hades where none but he can go, where he has made a home of sorts. It is located behind his throne, behind a pair of ancient pomegranate trees. 

There are no walls but he has woven a glamour around it, no eyes but his can see through. It is not a large space - his needs are few, but there are some small luxuries he has allowed himself; in the centre there is a large fire-pit, the flames, like the torches are eternal, never burning out or creating smoke. A bath in one corner, a simple pool in the floor, deep enough for him to sit and be immersed up to his chest, heated and filled with mineral rich water that renews itself regularly. Then there is his bed, he is a large man so the bed must be so, covered in smooth silk and soft furs, its four posters draped with swathes of gossamer. 

It is big enough for two.

Opposite the bathing area stands a solid table with chairs, rarely used, next to shelves filled with ancient tomes and scrolls. 

The table is clear apart from the mirror, resting innocently in the centre. For a moment he pauses, surprised it isn’t back on the throne. 

Still, it hardly matters now. 

Laying Rey gently down upon his bed, he takes a moment to just stare at her, studying her features, finally counting her freckles, before looking at what she is wearing. It appears she sleeps fully clothed, the only items missing from her daily apparel are her boots and headgear. She even still wears her belt, complete with coin pouch and two knives.

The weapons he removes, concealing them in a chest she won’t be able to see that stands at the end of the bed. 

Stroking the loose hair away from her face, he leans in nearer, till his nose is brushing the skin of her throat. Her skin is warm and soft, pulse gently fluttering against his lips. The scent of the sun clings to her, it speaks to him of warm sand and wild wind, sweat and woodsmoke. It is so very human, and yet, beneath it all, there is something else, hovering just out of reach. An  _ otherness. _

_ Has his mortal girl been touched by Hecate? _ It is not the acrid taint of motal mageia, that is for certain, he briefly touches his lips to hers, inhaling her breath deep into his lungs,  _ no, _ she is too pure.

It is this thought that awakens his body, hunger rushing in, the intensity surprises him briefly before he allows it to carry him away.

_ “Wake” _ , he commands, and watches in fascination as her bright eyes fly open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finding it hard to writing atm, I think you can tell from this chapter, but after sitting on it for a 5 days and all the rewriting has got me no where, I decided to post anyway and hope that kick starts something, maybe I can come back to improve it later.   
> The next chapter is already written and I'll try and post it tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy May the 4th!

It is a jolt, to go from such deep slumber to fully awake in a matter of seconds. For a moment Rey feels giddy and disorientated before her eyes focus on the same dark figure who had chased her into sleep.

Not a dream then, and the situation has gone from bad to worse, because she is not in her home. 

Sitting up quickly makes her sway as the blood rushes from her head, “Where am I?”

“You’re my guest,” his voice shivers over her skin, dark and hypnotic.

_ A guest? _ Liar.  __

“Who are you?” she asks instead, shifting further away from where he stands, a flush heating her skin as she realises she is resting upon a luxurious bed.

For answer, his hands reach up and pull off his helmet. 

Beneath the metal, is not a monster but a man. 

His skin is pale, so much so that she wonders if he has ever seen sunlight. Hooded eyes watch her, gleaming slightly in the glow of the torches, above a straight nose and full lips, the dark pink stands out against his skin, along with a careless scattering of beauty marks. His heavy brows are dark, as is his thick, glossy hair which rests upon his broad shoulders in gentle waves.

Rey had not known it was possible for a man to be beautiful, but he is; ethereal yet slightly eldritch, as if, despite his appearance, he isn’t completely human.

“You may call me Kylo, but you will know me by another name - I am Hades.”

Everything inside Rey stops. Her heart, her breath, even the blood in her veins, as she stares at this man, at this  _ god _ , in front of her.

She has never paid particular attention to religions or the deities they worship, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t believe, or doesn’t know who Hades is.

This time her body has frozen on its own,  _ is she dead then? _

She manages to blink as he comes closer, close enough to stroke her cheek, enough for his voice to be soft and quiet and still heard.

“Breathe,” he tells her as his fingers ghost over her skin, down her throat to stop over her heart.

To her surprise, it helps, and her body remembers that it has work to do, even if she is dead.

There is the barest curve to his mouth as she calms her breathing, but her heart flutters too fast in her chest, this is all so surreal.

It is impossible to look away from him as she pinches her arm in an attempt to wake up, because this is just too strange. She feels the tweak in her flesh... and everything stays the same.

“I don’t understand,” she tells the god before her, as she distractedly rubs her arms.

Cupping her face in his hands, he smiles slightly, dark eyes gleaming gold for a second, “Let me show you.”

Shockingly, he presses his lips to hers, one of his hands moves to cradle the back of her head. His lips are warm and so soft against her own, and for a moment her mind goes blank save for one thought only,  _ my first kiss! _

Then she remembers that he has kidnapped her from her home. Her questing fingers find her belt devoid of knives, he must have removed them whilst she slept, but she can still feel the small one strapped to her calf muscle, under her trousers.

Pressing her hands against his chest, Rey pushes as hard as she can, managing to make space between their lips but his hold on her tightens and he just pulls her up as he stands, till she's straining up on her knees and her hands must hold onto his shoulders to steady herself.

“Give yourself to me,” he murmurs heatedly, “Just one night is all I ask.”

_ All _ he asks? 

The hand that was cupping her cheek drops down to hold her waist, pulling her against his hard body as he kisses her again, darting his tongue against the seam of her lips. As she tries to push against him again, his hand moves down to jerk her legs straight before throwing her down onto the bed and caging her with his body, trapping her beneath him.

“I have watched you, as you scavenge in the sand and stone for paltry treasures,” he tells her, up close, his eyes are dark but flash golden every few seconds, “Spend one night with me and I will return you to your home, or anywhere else you wish to go, with gold and jewels. You will never have to work again.”   
_ He has been spying on her? _ She shivers as she remembers the odd sense of being watched that has plagued her over the last few months, she had assumed it was paranoia, _ it was Hades then?  _ How? _ And why? _

She shakes her head, that is not important at this time, she lifts her chin slightly and glares at him, “I am not a whore, even for a god!”

His eyes flash and she swallows despite herself.

“You offer yourself freely then? As tribute?”

He is mocking her, anger spikes and she tries to push him off her, to no avail - he is a solid mass, covering her completely.

“I offer nothing and I owe you nothing!” 

His head dips, lips tickling her ear as he whispers, “You know I can take whatever I want.”

The words should chill her but they have the opposite effect, something in her lower belly quivers and warmth blooms between her legs as he adds, “And I can give you everything you need.”

There is something magnetic about him, against every instinct her body is responding to him, she wants to squirm but stays still, unwilling to give him any encouragement as they stare at each other.

She is the first to look away, “I do not need anything."

If she could just reach her knife… but she isn’t sure what she could achieve with it. You cannot kill a god, not with a mortal weapon anyway, and she has no desire to make him angry. Her options are few and none are appealing… but it is not in her nature to simply surrender.

“There are tales of beautiful acolytes at the temples in Jedha, I am but a lowly scavenger, I am not… worthy of your attention.”

Perhaps she sounds too proud of her humble status, but she thinks she still makes a good point. 

“A powerful magical artifact showed me you,” full lips quirk slightly as he looks at her, “Just you. How could such a thing be wrong?”

It is like trying to navigate sand dunes on a starless and moonless night -  _ how can she change the mind of a god? _

Although she does not worship them, she knows that the divine are volatile, jealous beings, arrogant and selfish, but that doesn’t help her in thinking a way out of her predicament… with a dry swallow she remembers that she is no longer in the land of the living and she feels her spirit shrink inside her.

Hades must feel it too, for his expression softens and he gets up, pulling her to her feet with him.

“Come, bathe with me.” 

It is not a question, he takes her hand and leads her away from the bed to a steaming pool in the black stone floor. Immediately her skin feels itchy and she casts a suspicious look at him, hugging herself, afraid that he will magic the clothes off her body.

With a graceful sigh, he turns his board back, “I will not look, if you do not wish me to.”

This is her chance, there may not be another, she throws caution and logic to the wind. 

The knife is small but better than nothing, her arm pulls back to throw, but she thinks better of it and instead jumps onto his back, gripping his waist with her legs as her arms come around his neck, knife pressing at his throat.

“Take me back!”

His reaction is a chuckle, as his strong fingers curl around her calf muscles, she can feel the heat of them through her trousers.

“No man-made blade may pierce my body, little one, I took your other knives so you would not harm yourself.”

What is it about his voice that is so alluring to her? She has never paid attention to the way men sound before, somehow the way he calls her  _ little one, _ it does things to her, despite it being insulting. 

Desperately, she presses her blade against his flesh, but it is as effective as if she were using her finger and she cannot help but make a strangled noise of frustration in her throat.

“I am sorry to disappoint you,” he says conversationally as he turns and starts walking down steps into the pool, fully clothed.

The knife falls from her hand as she lets go, but he holds onto her legs and lowers them both into the water before she can scramble off him.

It feels strange, she has never been immersed in water before. He let’s go of her but she is already soaked.

As she flails, trying to get her feet on the floor, Hades pulls off his tunic and shirt, dark eyes trained on her as his chest is revealed. As he is the god of the dead, she had imagined he would be skeletal or wraithlike, but apart from turning a sharp blade, he just looks like a man, though larger and stronger, his muscles defined, skin clear and smooth looking. Her fingers twitch at her sides as she stares, fascinated in spite of herself, but when he starts unlacing his trousers, she turns around, cheeks flaming.

Another chuckle sounds behind her, along with small splashes, “Perhaps this will help you feel more comfortable,” the torches and fire-pit darken, the water around her looks black and she can no longer see the bed.

Little eddies in the water are followed by his voice, just behind her, “Do you need some assistance? I cannot take you back to your home dripping wet after all.”

Part of her wants to refuse, but she doesn’t have anything to change into at home, not that doesn’t need mending anyway, and even if she were to build up her fire, she would still be cold. Rey hates being cold.

Biting her lip, her shoulders slump slightly and without turning she says, “Don’t look!” perhaps it is meaningless at this point, but she says it anyway.

“My eyes are shut,” he says with a smirk in his voice and she turns her head to check.

It is no lie, his eyes are shut but he is very close, she shivers and turns around again, divesting herself of her clothing as quickly as possible, but leaving her breast-band and under-garments on.

Once her clothing is on the side of the pool, she dips down into the water, immersed up to her neck, hiding her body from his view and trying not to stare at his.

“You can-” she had been going to say ‘ _ you can look now’ _ , but that seems too permissive, “I’m done.”

As he opens his eyes, they flash gold again, bright before they are dark once more. The water feels peculiar but… nice, deliciously hot, and irrespective of her predicament, her shoulders relax, a small sigh escaping her.

Hades imitates her, though the water laps at his chest rather than neck. Again her fingers twitch, wondering if he is as smooth as he looks. 

With a lazy wave of his hand two goblets appear next to him and he offers her one.

“You must be thirsty,” when she hesitates, his lips curve a little, “I swear to you it isn’t poisoned.”

The liquid is a red so dark it is almost black, “What is it?”

“Pomegranate wine,” he says casually, taking a sip from his own goblet.

Alcohol is not something she has often, but her mouth is so dry that she allows herself a small sip, wincing a little at the unexpectedly tart flavour.

When she looks up, Hades is smiling at her and she wonders if she’s missing something, but feels fine... she sets the goblet aside anyway. 

Without it she is unsure about what to do with her hands, and nervously twines them together in her lap beneath the water surface, making little eddies on the surface.

Discarding his own drink, Hades rises and moves to stand in front of her. She swallows, mouth suddenly dry once more as she stares at the water droplets running off his body, before darting her eyes away, remaining where she is.

“So demure,” he murmurs, he cocks his head, “You shouldn’t be shy, has no one told you you are beautiful, Rey?”

An unladylike huff escapes her, “Only when they want things,” she gives him a hard look, “Want things that I do not.”

“I am not like mortal men, the things I want from you are mutually enjoyable,” his voice has deepened, it slides along her skin like a caress. “Will you let me show you? I promise I will not touch your private places.”

To her shame, curiosity wins over good sense - secretly she treasures the small amount of physical contact in her life, mostly it consists of quick embraces when she greets or farewells Finn. 

“Very well,” she tells him, against her better judgement.

A dark chuckle leaves him, “Stand with your back to me, and you will keep your modesty.”

Rey turns in the water before standing, the rising steam means she doesn’t feel cold and helps her feel less exposed.

Hades body is close but doesn’t quite touch hers, until his large hands come to rest on her shoulders and she flinches.

“Relax, Rey, I will not harm you. Close your eyes and just  _ feel _ .”

He starts slowly, trailing his fingers up and down her arms, it tickles but is not irritating. The movement turns into stroking, up over her shoulders, before thick thumbs dig into the muscles there and she emits a small groan.

Mortification flushes across her cheeks, but he doesn’t make any comment, just strokes the hair off her neck and kneads her flesh till the tension leeches out of her. 

Bypassing the area her breast band covers, he strokes her lower back and sides, and there is something about how his hands span across her waist that brings about a confusing combination of tightness and relaxation. 

Her body starts to wilt, legs feeling like they may dump her in the water any second, she feels drunk somehow.

“Come, you should sit,” his voice is low and velvet in her ear, his arms hooking inside her elbows, drawing her backwards and down so she is against his chest, her body floating slightly above his legs as one arm bands around her waist and the other holds her throat, turning her head to the side as his plush lips travel up and down her neck. 

The more he touches her, the more she wants him too. Something unrecognisable rises inside her, something that should scare her but does not. The areas of her body that he is avoiding touching so studiously, become the parts of her that craves his touch the most.

When he guides her to rest on his knees and his hands start to stroke the inside of her thighs, she gasps, the touch triggering a pulsing between her legs.

Graciously, he doesn’t say anything, perhaps because he knows it would break the spell he has cast, instead his lips move to her right ear, teeth nibbling the shell before sucking on her earlobe. 

Her whole body shudders, eyes fluttering in the darkness, nipples hard despite the hot water. This must be mageia, enchantment. 

Unconsciously her back arches, a deep ache of arousal, a  _ yearning _ fills her, yet there is an odd feeling of emptiness, too.

As her thighs try to close to give herself some friction, his hands hold them apart, effortlessly, thumbs stroking circles higher and higher up, towards her core.

“I am afraid that it will be awkward to pay proper attention to your calves and feet while we are in the water,” his tone is low, it vibrates slightly against her, inside her. 

One of his hands reaches down for hers, bringing her fingers to his lips, gently kissing each knuckle, before sliding the middle one between his lips, sucking it and swirling his tongue around it, before dragging it out to scrape against his teeth, her index finger follows it and Rey can no longer contain her squirming, or a small moan.

Even in the water she can feel another slickness, it's at the apex of her thighs, hot, throbbing, she squirms again, then feels fingers deftly tug at her breast band... she tenses slightly in anticipation and the movement stops.

“Do you want me to touch you more, little one?” his hands completely lift away.

She  _ does _ , for a second she is dismayed, tries to push this desire down, but something inside her, something that has always been there, is now awake. There is a prickle of fear - she doesn’t know what to do with these feelings.

The lightest pressure touches her between her legs, there, then gone again, but it is enough to make her find her tongue.

“ _ Please _ .”

“Say it, say what it is you want, Rey.” 

She should feel ashamed, disgusted, angry. 

She doesn’t, maybe confused and afraid, but there is now a hunger in her, it feels desperate, filling up her body, pushing at her fingertips and pulsing between her legs as if it's trying to get out.

“Touch me,” it is a whisper, but he hears it, she knows he does, because the hand at her hip tightens its grip momentarily. 

“You need a teacher,” he murmurs lowly, and her mouth goes dry, “But understand that if I start to touch you, I will not stop.”

It is a warning she should heed, but in this moment she is too weak, too overwhelmed for her good sense to wake her from this trance.

“Touch me,” she breathes, hopelessly lost.

“Yesss,” within seconds her undergarment is torn from her body and the breast band is no more.

Now he tilts her head back to rest on his shoulder, then both hands come up to cup her breasts, dwarfing them, and her body shudders as his thumbs butterfly over her nipples, before rolling them between his fingers, squeezing gently at the small swells, as his lips press up and down her jaw.

Something clenches inside her - she has never paid particular attention to her breasts, as far as she was aware they were for feeding babes and attracting men (if they were big enough), for being an indication that she is too cold or near her moon-blood. 

“I will kiss these later,” he tells her quietly, “Suck them into my mouth and use my teeth while you moan in my bed.”

Another shudder wracks her, her hips flex of their own accord, seeking something out of reach and he nips her neck with sharp teeth.

“Patience, little one,” his hand moves to press against her stomach, so she is completely flush to his body, and that’s when she feels it, a hot hardness underneath her buttocks. “All in good time,” he purrs as he slowly drifts his hand downwards.

She cries out when he finally touches her where she wants him the most, but it is feather-light, more a torment than relief. Her hips jerk in the hopes of alleviating the pressure, but he tuts and removes his hand, though his other still toys with her breast.

“You must stay still, I want you to feel everything I do, but you can make as much noise as you would like.”

With a will she didn’t know she still possessed, Rey makes herself go still, it means she is tense, and a small whine escapes her, but she does it.

“That’s it,” his voice is warm and thick, the words languid in his mouth as his fingers make a welcome return.

“I can feel your slick,” he murmurs, “I wager you taste like sunshine.” 

His touch is a little firmer this time, it feels like fire or lightning, his touch  _ burns _ . Her muscles quiver, strain to keep still as he explores her, till he starts to concentrate on the small spot at the top of her slit.

Being unable to move is unbearable, she  _ needs _ to, there is too much sensation to take, all she can do is moan and pant, her voice getting higher and higher until something inside her breaks.

It feels as if she has broken, shattered into pieces and she cannot contain herself, eyes wide but unseeing as she stares above her.

It is a shock when he doesn’t stop, just focuses on that magic spot and his other hand moves up to encircle her throat, tightening till she feels dizzy, but it heightens her awareness, too. Gasping, she wails and comes undone again.

And that is when he penetrates her. She sucks in a startled, pained breath as he pushes his finger inside her, heel of his palm still applying pressure which helps distract her a little.

“You’re doing so well, little one.”

She whimpers a little as he slowly thrusts in and out, it feels strange, at first not in a good way but with the other sensation he provides, that changes.

“So well,” he groans quietly, “So tight for me... open your legs a little more.”

Rey does so and he presses kisses to her neck, the change in angle helps her and as his finger’s journey becomes a smooth glide, he reaches something inside her that almost makes her scream.

“ _ There _ , this is pleasure Rey, this is what your body can do,” he sounds a little ragged now, as if he feels her pleasure as his own.

When her inner muscles clench for a third time, he turns her head to the side and swallows her screams, tongue licking inside her mouth as her body shakes and her eyes roll up, completely overwhelmed.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting, hope this chapter was better than the last 0_0


	4. Chapter 4

  
  


It is akin to playing a master-crafted harp or lute, his mortal girl made the loveliest sounds, all he had to do was pluck the right strings.

He wasn’t as unaffected as he’d expected and he had chased her pleasure instead of his own - of course he always satisfies his partners, but the impulse to just wring as much ecstasy as he could from her, made him forget about himself.

And she took it so beautifully, each climax he pulled from her was exquisite... he has always loved breaking things. 

When she is limp, muscles completely lax, her body draped against his, he gently slides his finger free, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head as he strokes stray hairs from her face, before cradling her and standing up.

As he lays her on his bed, he finally gets to take her in, her body supine, eyes closed though her breathing is still deep.

Her body is slender and lean, her womanly curves small. It is athletic, not something he is used to, but he likes it, loves the way he has reduced this strong woman to a trembling wreck. 

A strange desire overcomes him, an urge to ruin her for all other men. 

Of course he has already tied her to him with the wine - he was surprised she didn’t know the Binding lore of Pomegranates, it was a gamble and he still isn’t sure why he did it, but it feels right somehow. 

She will be able to return to the sunlit world, but she will always crave him, long for his darkness. He wants to add his body to the bond, for her to think of him as her only real source of pleasure.

Of course, he isn’t done with her yet.

As he settles on the bed, her eyes flutter open, a small noise of acknowledgement humming in her throat. He smiles to himself as he dips his head to run the flat of his tongue up her slit.

_ That _ gets her attention. A strangled little squeak, her eyes wide and stunned. His shoulders keep her legs apart as he pushes down on her stomach with one hand and the other roams upwards to stroke her breasts.

Sunshine, ( _ he knew it _ ) she tastes of sunshine, light, ambrosial and he groans against her as she gasps, so sensitive to every sweep of his tongue, every nudge of his nose and scrape of his teeth. The return of his finger has her breaking once more.

Tears are trickling unheeded down her face, glittering in the torch light like jewels, he pauses to watch in fascination, the way her body shudders, gasping sobs of pleasure pass her lips as he strokes inside her, thumb on her sweet spot in lieu of his lips. 

She is perfect in her torment.

Next time, and there will be a next time, even if he has to tie her to his bed, he will torture her like this for days, till she cannot speak words or walk on her feet, till she can remember nothing but the pleasure he gives her, how he will  _ own _ her completely… but, this is all new to her, he reminds himself, and now he is desperate for his own release.

A thrill shudders its way up his spine, anticipation a fire in his limbs and his sex throbs as he strokes himself, sending sparks over his skin like static.

Rey’s golden skinned body is glistening with moisture, hair damp and coming loose from its buns, and his mouth waters, sex twicthing, bobbing against his stomach as he crawls up her body to kiss her lips.

When her eyes open, there is barely any hazel visible, her pupils huge, they widen even more as he rests his body on top of hers, not completely but enough for her to feel him, feel  _ all _ of him.

A curse flies from his mouth as he rubs himself in the abundance of slick, shivering slightly, dipping his head to mouth over a breast, swirling his tongue around the hardened point of her nipple.

But it is a distraction. He slips free and looks down between their bodies as he lines himself up, here, he encounters a dilemma - does he wish to watch as his body sinks into hers, or would it be better to watch her expression as he conquers her?

A whimper has him looking up again and he has his answer. 

While she is dripping and ready, she is not ready  _ for him _ , her nose scrunches slightly, a sharp inhale and then her lip is caught between her teeth and her hands come up to grip his arms like vises.

Hitching one of her legs up on his hip, he tilts her pelvis, the angle makes it easier to push, parting her flesh, her body giving way reluctantly as he gently thrusts, shallowly at first.

When her maidenhead breaks, a wash of triumph hits him, _ first blood _ , a sacred, priceless offering.

All control is lost to him then, with one hard thrust he sheaths himself to the hilt, burrowing into her body, moulding her to fit him.

She cries out, it is a pained sound, a bead of blood hangs on her swollen lips as she pants, pupils smaller as her nails dig into his skin and her body clenches around him.

“I accept your sacrifice, little one,” he kisses her softly, licking the scarlet away, “It will not be without reward.”

Then he starts to move, slowly at first, almost all the way out before pushing in again, opening her up more, forcing her to body to yield to his despite their size disparity. At that thought he does glance down, then shudders at the sight - her hips are narrow and her thighs, while strong are slender, his sex looks obscene, impossibly huge as he moves, shiny with her essence and blood. He groans and looks up again, hips working harder, Rey makes a noise with each thrust, her eyes shut now and her head tilted back, though she still looks pained. He will make sure that changes before he is done, he wants to feel her climax with him inside her. 

So he tilts slightly, moves up a tiny bit until there is pressure on her sweet spot, and there it is, her eyes fly open again and he stares into them.

“Tell me your pleasure is all mine,” he commands roughly, urgently as he hits the special place inside her again and again, “Say it.”

When she doesn’t respond, just looks wary, he stops moving. 

It is agony. 

“ _ Say it. _ ”

Still she hesitates, he presses his body down, pinning her so she cannot seek release on her own, but is very much aware of the pressure on her sweet spot. She squirms, bites her lips some more, then whimpers as he throbs inside her.

“It’s yours,” she tries circling her hips and he presses down harder, and she finally cries, “My pleasure is yours!”

With a small nod of acknowledgement, he pulls her legs around his waist and sets a deep, hard pace.

“Keep your eyes on me, little one,” and that is all he is able to say as he lets his control completely slip and gives her everything she needs.

When her climax arrives, it carries them both away, her body squeezes him, as if it were trying to assimilate him, to hold onto him and never let go. The feeling is rapturous as his hips stutter and he pushes into her embrace as far as possible, emptying himself, filling her up as he throbs and twitches.

He holds her close as he shivers in ecstasy, his forehead resting upon hers, feeling her trembling beneath him, right where she belongs…

  
  


When he comes down from his euphoria, Rey is still breathing in small hitches, little shivers vibrating through her limbs, eyes closed. 

But as he eases himself out of her body, her eyes open open once more and she glances down, then quickly away, her flushed cheeks darkening.

With a smirk, he rolls to lie besides her, unbothered by his nakedness, propped up on one arm and gently uses the other hand to lightly trail a finger over her left breast. 

Even though they have just made love, she shys away, gathering one of the furs to cover herself from him.

While he would love to tease her, he senses that doing so at this point would damage the memory of the pleasure he gave her - because he wants her to remember the transcendence, the ecstasy of sharing her body with him, he wants her to crave it again, and crucially, to be simply _ unable _ to stay away from him.

Not that she will be able to, but he wants all of her to want him, not just the part that is controlled by the wine, he wants her mind, her body and her soul.

For a moment he is taken aback by this thought, but he shakes it off - it has merely been a while since he’s indulged such appetites and this is nothing more than post-climax possessiveness. 

As he watches her shift underneath the fur, wincing slightly at each movement, he hides a satisfied smirk.

“Bathing will help with the ache,” he tells her as he stands.

While he would prefer to just carry her there, he decides to let her walk, or totter is a more apt description. Like a newborn foal, she stands uncertainly, since her surrender to him, she has become almost fragile, perhaps she always was deep down, but hid it well.

His possessiveness is now joined by protectiveness, the latter is an emotion new to him.

“Allow me,” he says with a tenderness that is also new to him, and picks her up.

There is a slight huff in answer, but she doesn’t speak any words, just shifts in his arms a little uncomfortably.

“You will need to discard the fur, though, little one,” he doesn’t really care either way, but it is another exercise in getting her to submit to him. 

They are at the steps into the pool before she drops the fur though, defiance beginning to assert itself once again. He finds he doesn’t mind, while her surrender had been sublime, he had very much enjoyed the path he had taken to get her there.

Yes, he has always loved breaking things, and what is better than breaking something once? Why, of course, it is doing so for a second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amazing mood board made by [SheWalksInBeauty26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWalksInBeauty26/gifts) ^_^
> 
> Soooooooooo, guys, this is going to be longer than I thought, sorry 0_0 so sorry, there will also be slower updates too as I have other WIPs I am working on too *facepalms*
> 
> Thanks for reading and commenting and I hope this isn't too bad a place to pause, didn't want to leave you hanging like the last chapter XD


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